Ice Thaws
by HerBeautifulMuse
Summary: New threat.Name:Isabella Swan/Ice Queen.Threat:Edward Cullen is dangerously close to falling in love with her.' There's a new girl in Forks & she's captured everyone's attention. There's a secret behind her icy facade but nothing stays secret for long.
1. Preface

Ice Thaws

DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns. I'm just borrowing her characters until I can come up with some of my own.

Soundtrack: Rocket by Nuclear Free City.

Preface

It's the life in your years

'And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.'

-Abraham Lincoln

I've lived eighteen years today. And so far, there's not been much to say about the life in those eighteen years.

I was born in Forks, Washington. I lived there for all of two months before my mom escaped the dark dampness of the rainiest place in the state of Washington and moved with me to Phoenix – the sunniest place in Arizona.

And I stayed in Phoenix with my mother up to this very day.

My eighteenth birthday.

And to celebrate my eighteenth birthday, guess what I'm doing. I'm moving back to Forks.

Great year. Great life.

***

Coming back to Forks for the first time in eight years reminds me why my mom left. Her flighty and spontaneous character didn't suit the tall mossy trees that resembled a thick impenetrable wall, locking you in and hiding you away from sunshine and daisies and life.

Do I suit this place? Who knows. I'm glad to be here. It's almost a relief. A breath of fresh air. A change. And change is good, right?

Mom proved herself unchangeable by surprisingly maintaining her impulsive and unstable personality even through to today, when one hopes she would have matured following raising an eighteen year old daughter. But the truth is, she didn't do much raising. That was left up to Grandma Swan. And by the time Grandma Swan died, I was old enough to look after myself, letting my mother off the hook.

Poor mom. She could never have taken care of me even if she tried. Mostly she was too stoned to even remember her name, let alone remember her daughter's. I loved her so much and she hardly recognized me. I put up with it for so long. But I had my limits.

And that came six months ago.

I knew I couldn't just pack and leave. Renee would slowly dwindle away, and I couldn't allow that to happen.

I planned my departure carefully. I called in a favour from a friend, whose father happened to work in one of the best rehab institutes in the state, and he arranged to have a place ready for her when the time came, free of charge.

Whilst waiting for the time to come, I organized the emancipation. Charlie had handed over custody to my mom when I was a baby without a fight – from what I hear he was more alcoholic than anything at the time. Which meant I was emancipating myself from my mother.

People asked me, why emancipate yourself with your birthday in less than six months? And the answer is simple: I didn't want to have any attachment to the woman.

The emancipation was granted easily. I had plenty of evidence and witnesses in my favour, and Renee had nothing. Not surprisingly, she hardly put up a fight. She didn't know me well enough to care.

I stayed with her until the day came – and the day came the day before my birthday. Yesterday.

She was stoned. Heavily. I tried waking her up, but there was no response. I called an ambulance. They came. I handed them the documents with her arrangements to enter rehab, with her signature at the bottom – the story of how I got her to sign it is for another time. And then they drove away, and I was done.

I hopped on a plane this morning. I'd had the tickets booked for a while. As soon as the emancipation was finalized, I'd given Charlie a call. He'd been sober for a while – since I turned eight and walked in on him passed out whilst visiting him on holiday. And he was happy to hear I was coming to stay. He understood why I wasn't quite ready to live with him, and arranged for me to rent a place nearby instead. So I'd booked my tickets for today, knowing that my mother would be sure to have cracked either the drink or the pills by now. And she didn't fail to meet my expectations.

And so here I am.

***

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HBMuse


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Crimson and Clover

DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, I'm just borrowing them until I can come up with my own.

Soundtrack: Crimson and Clover - _Joan Jett & the Blackhearts_ (Bella's POV), Mayday - _Unkle feat. The Duke Spirit_ (Edward's POV).

***

BELLA'S POV

I settled in at home fairly quickly. Charlie took me on a trip to Port Angeles – the closest thing to civilisation in the near vicinity, and we went furniture shopping. It was slightly awkward, but that is to be expected after eight years.

We picked up a bunch of things – all old and cheap. The flat was pretty crummy, and the furniture went along with the look.

The flat also had about five minutes worth of hot water every day, a crumbling balcony, creaking floorboards, and smelt slightly damp. But it was perfect. I loved it the minute I set eyes on it. And what I probably loved even more was the baby grand piano in the middle of the lounge slash kitchen.

Charlie blushed and mumbled as I thanked him profusely for bringing over my piano. I'd mentioned I'd miss it more than anything – subtly hinting. It could be said I took advantage of my father's desperation to please me and make me happy in Forks, but that's what happens when you're brought up by a barely-there-mother. You use all your assets to make the most of every situation. And in this case I used my manipulation skills.

Manipulative bitch. That was the nickname they adopted for me over the last couple of months back in Phoenix. The daughter's scandalous party habits push the mother over the edge. Oh, if they only knew. And that was only one of the malicious nicknames they had for me.

The other was Ice Queen.

That one I was quite proud of. I prided myself in being distrustful, distanced and suspicious. My motto: trust no one. It's something you learn from having a rather shaky, hurtful upbringing.

I'm brought out of my reverie by my screeching alarm clock. The alarm is mostly to keep up appearances. I make a big noise of slamming the alarm clock off, and stretching in bed, yawning loudly, pretending to myself that I had a long night's sleep. Maybe if I pretend I did sleep well, it will change my perspective on the day ahead.

Today is my first day of school at Forks High. Of all the days to need a good night's sleep, today is the day.

I take my time getting ready. I put the radio on, and wander into my one by one meter square kitchen to make myself a strong coffee. As the water heats up, I have a five minute shower, and return in a robe just as the water boils, and pour the water and instant coffee powder into a thermos – a gift from Renee for my birthday last year. I didn't mention we'd had it for years. She seemed rather pleased with herself for simply remembering the day.

The thought of Renee reminds me that I should call her at the institute tonight. Keep up the appearance of the loving concerned daughter, to ensure her stay remains free of charge.

It's a beautiful sunny day - which is shocking in Forks. The last time I checked, it rains something like three hundred days a year or more. But I'm not fooled by the sun's seemingly warm rays – it's still cold, so I put on my jeans, a tee and a hoodie to be safe.

Not sleeping gives one plenty of time to do things like pack your bag for the next day, so I'm pretty much ready to go by the time eight rolls around.

I amble outside, squinting into the sun, slipping my wayfarers on as I lock the door behind me. The landlord had emphasized how important it was to lock the door.

'It's quite dangerous here in Forks,' he told me, limping his way through the flat to show me the small space. 'We get an average of ten robberies a year.'

I'd thought for a moment that he meant per household. When I realized he meant in the whole town, I bit my lip to keep from snorting.

As I hopped into my car, I let the smile creep up on my face recalling his words. Mr Webber. He mentioned his granddaughter attended Forks High. I wondered what she'd be like. Maybe we could be friends…

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I shook it out again. I don't have friends. Nor do I need them.

I repeated my mantra to myself silently as I drove to school.

'Trust no one… Trust no one… Trust no one…'

***

EDWARD'S POV

The sun was shining. Alice came bounding in to point it out to me at six AM. I just rolled over and bit my lip to keep myself from groaning audibly at the early hour. I knew how hard it was for her to restrain herself, and six was actually pretty good for her.

I hopped in the shower as she chatted happily through the door. I'd learnt to multi-task – I could generally catch the gist of what she was saying and simultaneously think on other things.

'What do you think, Edward?' she questioned.

'Are you sure you want to wear the hat, Alice? Didn't you wear that one last Thursday? I just know how you hate to wear things twice,' I mentioned as she asked my opinion on her planned outfit for the day.

I could practically hear her pout.

'I know, but its so cute… But you're right, I have to stick to my policy, I do have a reputation to keep up, and I don't want those bitches to say something about…'

I could hear her continue talking to myself as she went back to her room.

Whilst I knew Alice would take a good half hour getting ready, I took five minutes.

Shower, shave, dressed, bag.

I waited for my sister in the kitchen, munching on mum's pancakes. I loved my mother. She still managed to find the time to make me my favourite despite working all hours of the day.

Alice came down right on time. I complemented her outfit, and she smiled beatifically at me as she slid into the Aston Martin. Noticing the car, she wrinkled her nose.

'Why are we taking the Aston today?'

I shrugged.

I couldn't tell her it was because I had heard there was a new girl coming and wanted to impress – and not just impress her, but impress on her mind, that the Cullens were not to be messed with. Especially Alice.

I am slightly overprotective of my sister.

Especially considering she has no friends.

And especially considering…

Ah.

'Did you remember to take your pills, Alice?'

Her silence confirms that as a yes. She never likes vocalising the word, and I can't really blame her.

We arrive at the school first, as per usual, and stay in the car awaiting people's arrival.

I secretly hope the new girl arrives before Emmett and Rosalie do, so I don't have to make an excuse as to why we're standing around in the parking lot.

Alice and I banter about music whilst we wait, and I eventually subtly shift the conversation towards clothes. Once Alice gets started on the topic of clothes, you can pretty much leave the conversation up to her. Giving me time to concentrate on the new girl.

And there she is.

I know its her immediately, as I've never seen a car like hers in the lot before. Nor have I ever seen a car quite as beautiful in my life.

I recognize it as an Aston, but it's an old one. A classic. I think I just fell slightly in love.

Thankfully my emotions don't play out on my face, or else Alice hasn't noticed, allowing me to continue ogling.

The girl doesn't step out for another good five minutes, which irritates me. I'm not a very patient guy.

When she does step out, all eyes are on her.

She's probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life.

She has long mahogany hair, with a kink, and a soft face with full red lips and a pale complexion. Her eyes are hidden behind a pair of Ray Bans, and I let my eyes wander over the rest of her.

She's wearing tight navy skinny jeans, and Adidas classics. All I can see underneath her vintage leather jacket is a black hoodie, and a grey tee with some sort of slogan on it.

Her jacket is cropped, and her hoodie doesn't quite reach the top of her low rise jeans, exposing a sliver of white skin.

She slides out of the car gracefully, and pushes the door shut with her foot behind her. She walks in the direction of the office then, pointing her keys over her shoulder, and the answering beep-beep of her car as she locks it seems to resound in the suddenly quiet parking lot.

Everyone is staring at her. Including me.

I glance towards Alice. But she's staring elsewhere. I follow her line of vision, and notice Emmett and Rosalie walking towards our car. By the time I return my gaze to where the new girl stood, she's gone.

I mumble a quiet 'Shall we go?' as I step out of the car, and Alice follows my suit.

'Yo, dudes and dudettes!' Emmett's booming voice seems to break the silence in the lot, and everyone suddenly resumes chatting in excited voices, no doubt gossiping the new girl.

I watch as Emmett wraps Alice in a bear hug, twirling her in the air. It's taken me a while to gain control of my facial expression when he does something like that, but I've managed to now. And Rosalie's perfect face is, as always, an impenetrable mask. She nods towards me in acknowledgment, and then resumes texting on her Blackberry.

Emmett gives me a man hug once he's done molesting Alice.

'Finally done molesting my sister,' I deadpan, and Emmett just laughs, ruffling Alice's hair good naturedly.

Anybody who didn't know her would assume the grimace on her face was a result of his messing up her hair, but I know better.

'First day of senior year and you can already feel the tension of high school drama,' Emmett says as he wraps his arm around Rosalie, and leads the way to the gymnasium for back to school assembly.

'Yup,' I reply, looking down as he locks lips with Rosalie passionately in one of their frequent random make out sessions.

She's so quiet, I barely hear her. But I do. I'm so attuned to Alice's every word and action that I don't miss it. And I can hear the double meaning in her words.

'Drama, drama, drama…'

***

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HerBeautifulMuse


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mother We Just Can't Get Enough

DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns everything. I'm just borrowing her characters until I can come up with my own.

Soundtrack: Mother We Just Can't Get Enough – _New Radicals_, She Never Even Told Me Her Name – _Air Traffic_, You Know I'm No Good – _Amy Winehouse_.

***

Bella's POV

High school.

Once I (finally) get out the car, I can already feel the hormone and testosterone charged air. It's stifling. I don't relate too well to people my age.

I let my eyes wander over the sea of faces, knowing my own gaze is hidden behind my shades, and recognize the various different emotions playing across each one – some leering, some jealous, some excited, and all of them openly curious. They're all emotions I've seen before, and this makes me sigh. I always secretly hope there'll be someone different, someone who'll surprise me.

By lunchtime, I still haven't met that someone. And it's probably a good thing anyway, considering I've taken a vow of isolation.

I'm pleased to say that I've managed to keep up my reputation. I've already heard the whispers. And I've got a new nickname, a variation on the last one – 'Ice Bitch'. Apparently the title of 'Ice Queen' has already gone to another girl in my year. I'm interested to see her.

The lunch room is noisy, and boisterous. I slip in my earphones, hopefully sending out a no-no signal to anyone who thinks of approaching me, and to avoid any unfortunate incidents such as the one that occurred this morning.

There's always the one. The douchebag. He's usually always a quarterback, and this quarterback didn't fail to live up to his reputation.

'Hey gorgeous, I'm Mike Newton, and you look a lot like my next girlfriend. Or maybe I should say, my next date, because one date with me, and I've usually achieved all I need.'

I stared at him blankly, whist packing my bag. My lack of facial and verbal response obviously must have bothered him after a while, and he started to fidget uncomfortably under my hard gaze.

I smiled inwardly. I love making people uncomfortable.

'So, er, yeah, basically, what do you say?' he mumbled finally.

I sighed. Our classmates seemed to be taking an unusually long time to get to their next class. It wasn't my intention to embarrass Mike publicly, but it looked like I'd have to.

So, I zipped up my bag, turned to him, kneed him in the groin, said those priceless words 'fuck off', and walked to my next lesson, leaving Mike rolling around on the floor, and half a dozen students frozen in shock.

Another thing I love. Making an impact.

Which brings me back to my earphones. One would think that the story of Mike and his likely inability to produce any offspring due to my scruples would deter anyone from coming near me, but just in case there happens to be someone who doesn't value their balls, the earphones are an extra safety measure.

After paying for my soda, I cross the room, smirking slightly when the crowds part for me, and make my way out the back door. The sun is making what will probably be a maximum of ten minutes appearance, and I am determined to make the most of it.

I head past the wooden benches and chairs, and around to the back of the buildings. The toilet stalls are here, and there are a couple of windows looking into the gym, so I seat myself on of the ledges, and pull out a pack of Marlboros. I'm not addicted – I've quit many times before with no problem, but I suppose it's just an easy out. A slow way of killing myself.

I started when I was fifteen. My mom had been dating the first decent guy in ages. He played minor league baseball, and his name was Phil Dwyer. He was actually pretty cool, completely different from the usual douches my mom would bring home. He'd take us out to see a movie, and buy ice cream, and go see the penguins at the zoo. And my mom was clean for the first time in years. And happy. I'd never seen her so happy.

And then one day, I came home, and my mom was high as a kite. And Phil's stuff had gone. Renee screamed at me, swearing that I was ruining her life, and promptly threw a vase at my head.

I woke up a couple of hours later, and Renee was out cold. I cleaned up in a daze. I knew my mom had problems, but they never involved me physically.

I smoked a whole pack that day, and have pretty much been having a pack a day ever since – apart from the few months I quit obviously.

The bell rings, shaking me out of my daze. Some girls round the corner and shuffle past me, staring openly at my cigarette in shock and disgust.

I discard the burning cigarette butt, and squash the remains with my heel.

***

I pride myself in being an extremely observant person. It's what happens when you have no friends – you find alternative entertainment. Sometimes I think I'm such a good observer, I would make a great spy. The movie Spy Game inspired that particular thought. There's a scene where Robert Redford's character tell Brad Pitt 'Every scene is a photograph. You gotta see it, assess it, and dismiss most of it, without thinking, like breathing'. You've got to be observant to be a spy. And that's what I do: I observe. I see people, assess them, and categorize them. There are various different categories: the jocks, the cheerleaders, the nerds, and the populars. The populars usually contains members from the other three categories who need their own category to distinguish them from the rest. And then there are sub-divisions. There are the nice jocks and the douche jocks, the nice cheerleaders and the bitch cheerleaders, the nice nerds, and the 'got-their-head-up-their-own-ass' nerds. Sometimes you get people who straddle several categories. The popular-nice-jock. The nice-cheerleader-nerd. The popular-bitch-cheerleader. And then, probably my favourite: the popular-nice-jock-nerd. And by nerd I don't mean geeky – I mean smart, whether because they work hard or just have a natural flair for academic subjects. I call him the PNJN for short. He's every girl's high school dream – the sweet, gorgeous, buff, popular, smart guy who's going to be Prom King.

Unfortunately, PNJNs are extremely rare. I still haven't come across one.

Through my categorizing, I've managed to pretty much assess and dismiss most of the people in my school as insipid and shallow.

Sitting alone in my Physics AP class, I'm hoping I'll find someone new to categorize.

And I do.

It's funny. You wait all day for someone interesting to come along, and then, not only do they prop up towards the close of the day, but you get four at once.

I notice them immediately. It's hard not to.

There's a bronze haired fit guy, who's staring at a tiny pixie-like girl, who's staring at a massive muscled guy, who's staring at a blonde bomb-shell, who's texting on her blackberry. The former, has his arms around the blonde bomb shell.

It's easy to categorize the first two. Blonde bomb shell can't be anything but a cheerleader, and by the icy stare on her face, she's definitely a bitch cheerleader. This must be the Ice Queen. Massive muscled guy is without a doubt a jock, and by the cute smile on his face and his easy going manner, he's probably a nice jock.

But the other two... I'm not sure.

All four of them are obviously part of the populars. Actually, I'm considering removing all my previous popular candidates and simply have these four in that particular category.

But aside from popular, it's hard to assess the bronze haired boy and the pixie girl.

The bronze haired boy is probably the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life. And he's definitely all man – no boy. He's probably a jock given his tall, toned body.

The tiny pixie-like girl can't be more that 5'1. She has short, spiky hair with purple highlights, and a soft, pretty face.

These two are a mystery.

I'm captivated. They're probably the most interesting people I've ever come across. The relationship between the nice jock and the bitch cheerleader is obvious. He looks absolutely devoted, which probably just makes up for her completely flippant treatment of him.

As for the relationship between bronzy and pixie, I'm, again, unsure. They're too dissimilar to be siblings. Cousins, maybe? I wouldn't rule out a romantic relationship, although the way they act suggests not. His over-protectiveness poses an interesting conundrum. Is he over-protective because he is jealous of the pixie's love for the nice jock? Or is he over-protective because he is simply looking out for her, especially considering nice-jock already has a girlfriend?

Ah, drama, drama, drama...

***

Edward's POV

I keep a close eye on her for the rest of the day. But it becomes obvious that there's no need for my concern. She engages no one, and apart from a brief incident with Mike Newton, she doesn't show any signs of hostility towards anyone in particular.

Her icy exterior has me fascinated.

She earns the nickname 'Ice Bitch' by third period.

'My cousin's sister's best friend's boyfriend's mother's sister was like, her shrink, back in Phoenix, and apparently, she drove her mom insane, and like, her mom's in a mental institute now.'

Emmett does his best impression of Jessica Stanley, the initiator of this particular piece of gossip, at lunch.

Rosalie cracks a smile at his high pitched voice, and gay hand gestures, letting out a quiet giggle. Seeing this, Emmett smiles widely, and wraps her in a passionate embrace.

Emmett's so completely besotted.

At first, I was rather wary of their relationship. Rosalie's Ice Queen reputation suggested she was going use him and dump him, but their relationship has stood the test of time. And the rare times she lets her guard drop show her true happiness with Emmett.

I roll my eyes at their public display, and make a big movement of gagging.

They come apart with a loud squelch, and I grimace.

'Sorry man,' Emmett apologizes with a goofy grin on his face.

I roll my eyes again, and gesture for him to continue his story.

'Right, so that's what Stanley said. If you believe it,' he adds. It's no secret Jessica's the biggest gossip bitch in town, and prone to over exaggerate things. Had I not already heard from dad that the new girl had a history of family problems, I probably wouldn't believe Jessica's story.

I ponder her as I munch on my burger.

My eyes wander away from the couple in front of me, to Alice by my side. As usual, her head is buried in her notebook. A book I gave her as a gift for her birthday last year, and that she's carried around ever since.

Sometimes, she leaves it on my desk, an open invitation for me to read it. It's mostly drawings, and bits of writing here and there. She loves that we have such an open relationship, and having no girlfriends of her own, tells me everything instead.

I smile at her. Sensing my gaze, she looks up at me, and smiles lightly, only to swallow visibly when she sees Emmett practically swallowing Rosalie whole. The smile turns sad, and she turns back to her book, the pen digging into the page.

I sigh heavily.

It's not healthy, her crush. Ever since Emmett saved her life two years ago, she's been like this. And it hurts me to see her so crushed.

I shake the thought from my head, deciding to have a talk with her about it later, and peruse the different faces in the lunch room.

There's an automatic change in the atmosphere when she arrives. Almost every head turns to look at her, and hushed whispers ensue. She looks...bored. Slipping some headphones in, she bops her foot to the beat, waiting for the queue to move forward. When she reaches the till, all she purchases is a soda.

The crowds of people automatically move in order to let her pass, as she walks straight past every table in the lunch room, and heads for the door leading outside. She disappears around the back of the building, out of sight, and suddenly the loud chatter is back, as everyone talks excitedly.

Emmett once again pulls away from his girlfriend with a puzzled expression on his face.

'What was with the dramatic silence?' he asks.

I shrug.

'New girl.'

He goes back to Rosalie, and I keep my face impassive, as I think to myself 'Boy... I hope she's in physics...'

***

By the time lunch is over, there's a new rumour going around.

'I saw her smoking by the toilets behind the gym...'

This new piece of information doesn't surprise me. She seems like the type. As for why she is slowly killing herself... my curiosity is once again piqued.

I momentarily forget my preoccupations with the new girl, when Alice suddenly emits a low gasp.

I turn towards her rapidly, and ask her quietly what's wrong.

She doesn't reply, but her gaze is fixed on something in front of us.

Her lack of response worries me more, and I shake her gently. Her face crumples.

'Alice. Tell. Me. What's. Wrong.' I mutter under my breath, gripping her upper arm.

She shakes her head.

'I'll tell you later.'

Her answer satisfies me. She hates public scenes. And I know she'll tell me whatever is bothering her in the car.

Our little interlude distracts me, and it takes me a while to recall my previous line of thought.

It doesn't take long for me to remember, as my eyes land on the girl.

She's staring at me, and her gaze meets mine head on. She doesn't flinch, or avert her eyes, but stares openly. It's impossible to tell what she is thinking of, and no emotions play across her face to hint at her feelings.

I make my decision quickly.

I direct Alice gently away from Rosalie and Emmett, and toward the three seater bench where the girl is sitting. Alice gives me a brief confused look, before she realizes, and lets herself be led in the right direction.

I pull out Alice's seat for her, before seating myself next to the girl. She's no longer staring at me, instead focusing on something out the window.

I stare at her unabashedly, and probably feeling my gaze, she turns towards me.

Her eyes are brown. A deep, unfathomable, chocolate brown.

We stare at each other for a while.

I feel as if time has stopped. There is nothing else in the world, except me, and this beautiful mystery before me.

I throw a prayer to the wind, and hope that she limits herself to one act of violence a day, and stick out my hand.

'Hello. My name's Edward Cullen.'

Still no emotions.

And no hand shakes mine.

But she hasn't slapped me, or kneed me in the groin, so I decide to take it a step further.

I gently let my hand encircle her wrist, and bring it up to meet my hand, shaking it.

'We shake hands here,' I tell her, smiling gently.

A flicker in her eyes.

It's enough. It's something.

The teacher walks in then, and she still hasn't told me her name.

But the flicker was enough. I'm encouraged. I'm determined to crack this beautiful mystery, and to unravel her.

When the teacher calls out her name, I want to say it out loud, it's so perfect.

_Isabella Swan... _

_*** _

Bella's POV

His touch was... indescribable. I felt the warmth from his hand spread across my entire body. I wanted to melt into him.

It made me realize how long it had been since I'd been hugged. Properly hugged.

I didn't utter a single word to him the entire time. But my lack of response didn't seem to bother him in the slightest, nor make him uncomfortable. He seemed perfectly at ease.

The way he introduced himself floored me. Because he properly introduced himself. Like an adult. And shook my hand.

His self assurance threw me. He was neither cocky, nor over confident, he was merely... comfortable in his own skin.

It threw me because I'm, just, not comfortable in my own skin.

I have never been so grateful to my unbelievable icy skills. None of the emotions he instigated in me reflected in my face. Thankfully.

Driving home, away from the physics lab and away from him, allowed me time to clear my head.

It made me aware of several things.

One, I needed to maintain my reputation, and I reminded myself of the reasons I had my icy exterior in place.

Two, I need to double my efforts in distancing myself from my fellow classmates, if I was to protect myself to the threat that is:

Three, Edward Cullen. He was extremely, extremely dangerous, and I needed, above all things, to stay away.

***

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Her Beautiful Muse


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Rock That Body

AN: I'm so sorry for the long wait! Excuse is school, and exams... All over now, and am on holiday for a leisurely two months, so hopefully will update a lot more!

Soundtrack: Rock That Body – the Black Eyed Peas, Sexy Bitch – David Guetta ft. Akon, Que Sera - Wax Tailor.

Bella's POV

Following my rather unsettling encounter with Edward Cullen, I decided my unusual reaction to him must have been due to some underlying tension in me. And any underlying tension in any hormonal teenage girl is usually due to sexual frustration.

Which is why, as soon as I drop dinner off at Charlie's, I'm heading out of town. It's a Friday night, and what do teenagers do on Friday nights? They party.

Port Angeles is the closest thing with any clubs, and a quick surf on the net reveals that a new place has opened in the centre called Twilight. A few pictures satisfy my curiosity, and I type the address into my phone.

I dress quickly, wanting to get to Charlie's before he gets home from his shift. A quick make-up top up, and I'm out of the house. At Charlie's, I leave the meal in the fridge, and scribble some detailed instructions as to how to heat up the food without burning the house down. I even go as far as unplugging the TV and hiding the lead to ensure he doesn't get caught up in the latest game. My last instruction reads: 'Text me when the food is out of the oven and the oven is _off_. I'll text you the location of the TV lead'.

I smile at my detail, and get up to leave. Once safe inside my car, I put on my latest feel-good playlist, raise the volume till my ears feel blown away, and drive.

I arrive in Port Angeles around eight. It's still too early to surface at the club without looking like a loner, so I head to the nearest bookshop to kill some time. An hour later, and my perusal has led to several new purchases – namely a book entitled High Fidelity by Nick Hornby, and several copies of the Economist, a political magazine. I immerse myself in them, seated in one of the plush sofas the bookshop offers, and am captivated by the end of the first chapter. I love books – and I love the books to which I feel some sort of emotional connection to. And I can tell this is one of them. The raw writing of the story teller reminds so me much of myself. I hate sugar coating things. Just tell it like it is people.

Nine o'clock rolls around, and I make my way to the club. I park the car across the street, in full view of the already developing queue for the club. I spot the bouncer over the sea of heads, and make eye contact easily as all eyes are turned towards me following my Aston's loud entrance. I smile lightly, and he gestures for me to skip the queue. I wink as I breeze past him, a smug grin slipping onto my face as the people in the queue shift, irritated.

The club is nice. It's too new to be great in my opinion, as I generally prefer clubs that have been worn in, but it'll easily be fantastic in a couple of month's time. It's packed, and the music pumps loudly through the speakers. The DJ podium is near the bar, so I make my way over to the corner nearest the jockey. I order a vodka tonic, and as I wait, complement the choice of song. The guy smiles at me, so I introduce myself, and shake his hand. Matthew – a fairly non-descript name for a DJ, and I tell him as much. He laughs. The guy's cute, but I cut the conversation once my drink is downed, and hint at seeing him later. He looks enthusiastic – one guy in the bag already. Before I leave I ask for a song – he agrees easily. It's a good song at the moment, so it's easy for him to say yes without fearing for his job. I've managed to kill two birds with one stone – hear a song I like, and make the guy feel accomplished and useful.

I make my way to the centre of the dance floor as he mixes Akon's 'Sexy Bitch' in. If there's ever a place to get distracted from the turmoil of everyday life, it's here. Right in the middle of the dance floor. Amidst the sweaty bodies and pulsing beat, I lose myself in the music and let the stress from life go, just for a minute.

Edward POV

Rosalie conference calls us all to let us know we're hitting a new club in Port Angeles this evening. There is no invitation – it's a merely a demand. None of us complain – we've all come to the silent agreement that Rose is our resident social planner.

So at eight we pile into Emmett's jeep and commence the hour drive to PA. We invited Felix and Jane Volturi along with us, simply because they're great fun on a night out. A little too bitchy to be good friends, but fun all the same, and they make for an easy ride. Alice sits between Felix and I in the back, whilst Jane who lives in Port Angeles plans to meet us there. I don't participate much in the conversation until Felix makes a pass at Alice, and I bristle.

'So pixie girl, any lucky guy yet?'

Alice laughs lightly at the obvious insinuation, brushing him off with a simple wave of the hand.

'Cause if you need one, look no further sweets...'

I laugh loudly, and Felix's head snaps towards me. He laughs too, although obviously not understanding the joke.

'It's just funny, imagining you with any girl for any length of time, Volturi,' I snort, keeping my tone light, but heavy with implication.

He acquiesces, and the conversation moves on to Jane's adventures at college in Port Angeles. The danger removed, I let my mind drift once more. It flitters to my conversation with Alice this afternoon.

'_It's just not healthy Alice!' _

_Her agonized cry has my resolve to pursue this line of conversation crumbling._

'_I know! Okay, I know, I can't help it though...' _

_She sits curved into herself in the middle of her giant bed, looking frail and vulnerable. I make my way over, and wrap my arms around her silently, holding her as she cries tearlessly. _

'_He's just perfect, y'know? He's exactly what I want to balance me out – big, and over-protective, and funny, and light, the exact opposite to me, the tiny, fragile, complicated Alice...' her voice trails off. _

'_I know. I'm sorry,' I mumble into her hair. _

'_But he's with Rose. So I have to get over it. And the thing this afternoon, when I got all weird? He told her he loved her. He whispered it to her as we walked into AP physics. And the look on his face was just priceless... I just wish someone would say that to me...'_

'_I love you,' I tell her. _

_She sighs, a big heavy sigh. _

'_I know you do, but I meant someone that isn't you or Esme or Carlisle. Don't get me wrong, I'm eternally grateful for what you guys have done for me, but sometimes I wish there was someone who would tell me they love me, despite knowing my complicated background and problems, and who wasn't related to me.'_

I look at my lovely little cousin on my right, and sigh. Wishing there was something I could do to take away all her problems. All her pain...

She pokes me in the ribs then, silently, and mouths 'smile' at me. I do. For her.

The club is what I expect – new, flashy, with prospects. Rosalie's father knows the owner, who's been asked to let us in immediately. The bouncer gestures for us to make our way inside, despite the groans of the long queue behind us. We're obviously not the first to be granted this privilege.

There's a booth reserved for us in the VIP section, and Emmett ambles to the bar to collect the drinks. I go with him, and we make small talk as we wait.

'Cool place huh?'

I nod in reply, as we stare at the massive crowd on the dance floor.

'So how's Alice, man?'

The question doesn't surprise me. Emmett makes a point of regularly asking how things are going, ever since the accident two years ago. Although he hasn't been debriefed as to the entire situation, he's aware things were shaky for a while. Little does he know they still are – and I'd like to keep it that way.

So I shrug, and smile.

'Yeah, good,' I tell him.

He smiles, appeased and ignorant, and turns to pay the bartender. Or rather hand him the pass that allows us unlimited free drinks for the rest of the evening – again, courtesy of Rosalie's dad.

I'm brought out of my contemplation of how best to thank Mr Hale by Emmett's low whistle.

'Dude, isn't that the newbie?'

My mind seems to immediately zone in on the word 'newbie', and my head swivels around against my will to focus on the girl in the middle of the dance floor.

I like her like this, I decide. She seems so much more at ease amongst the sea of strangers surrounding her than she does amidst the hormonal teenagers at our school. Seeing her at school, I would call her attractive and beautiful. But seeing her here – so lost and comfortable in her own skin, I would call her lovely and sexy. She's wearing a backless emerald green dress, revealing a supple and elegant neck and back, shimmering with a thin sheen of beady sweat. Her long hair is piled on the top of her head in a loose up-do, wisps escaping as she sways to the beat, curling around her face in the humidity of the club. Her cheeks are flushed, and a small smile graces her lips. She bites her lip, and I'm gone.

'Yo, man!'

Emmett shakes me roughly and I pull myself out of my reverie.

'Dude, you lost it there for a second,' he laughs, 'Shall we take these drinks to their destinations?'

I nod mutely, looking for the girl once more, but she has disappeared from the throngs of people. I force myself not to search for her, and focus on not spilling the drinks as we make our way back to the booth.

'Finally! We were worried they'd given you a hard time about the pass or something,' Felix says as we hand out the drinks. 'What happened to you guys?'

'Who the hell cares?' Rosalie interjects. 'Just give me my drink, I am dying for some alcohol over here.'

I find myself seated between Jane and Alice. The latter is conversing with Rosalie a propos the latest fashion, so I make small talk with Jane.

'How's college?' I ask politely.

She launches into an explanation of her course, the people, the campus, etc, etc... I listen half heartedly.

Jane Volturi. Never fit into the cheerleader category at Forks High, but was definitely popular. Everybody knew Jane Volturi, and everyone knew not to get on her bad side. She had a small group of friends who weren't half as popular as she was but had equally brilliant minds. If I could pick one word to describe her it would be cunning. She chose her friends for their lack of popularity which would boost her confidence, and for their similar deviousness and lack of genuine interest in her life. They were not burdensome friends for her to worry her pretty little head about. She associated with us because she and Rosalie remained good friends (as good as they could be as friends) and also because of our general popularity at Forks High. We were useful friends to her.

'So, how are you doing, Edward Cullen?'

The question takes me off guard. Jane doesn't usually feign interest in other people's lives.

'Oh, you know,' I shrug and send her a half-smile. 'Same old, same old.'

'And how's Alice?'

I really focus in on her now, for the first time tonight. Something about the way she asks the question has me suspicious. Her manner is altogether too casual and I assess her. Something in her eyes makes me feel ill at ease.

'Oh, you know,' I smile affectionately at Alice, who is chatting obliviously to Rosalie. 'She's happy, and has got good friends who look out for her. Emmett loves her and would kill anyone who looked at her the wrong way –' I interject a casual laugh here, although the threat is clear '- and she gets on well with Rosalie, as you can see.' Jane looks over to see the pair chatting happily, for once, and the look Jane carries that has me on edge seems to pass. For now.

I decide to completely remove the threat by turning on my full on charm, and ask her to dance. She smirks, and we ease our way on to the dance floor. Jane is quite tall, with straight blonde almost white hair, and icy blue eyes. She's pretty, although nothing out of the ordinary. I would not look at her twice if she passed me on the street.

The florescent lights reflect off the perspiration on the dancing bodies. The heat has everyone moving sluggishly, almost in slow motion. The dance floor is a mass of sweltering, sweaty bodies, with hands roaming and the music pulsing underneath our feet, until eventually, I'm no longer dancing with Jane, but with a mass group of people.

Something brushes my back, and the electric current from the warm body behind me has me swivel around.

Of course.

'Isabella Swan.'

It's not a question I pose her, it's a statement.

She pants slightly, and stares at me. The look in her eyes is hard to assess – confused? Awed? Shocked? Lustful? Maybe all in one?

Her breathy 'yes' has me immediately dismissing all logical thoughts of introductions and conversations fleeing my mind, and my body moves of its own accord. My brain seems to process the movements in slow motion, and I watch as my arms wrap their way around her small waist, my right hand encircling her toned thigh, and hitching it around my side, so that she rubs against me with every movement, and I her. We circle our hips against each other, and she throws her head back in a moan. My hand makes its way to her exposed neck, and runs its course down her chest making her gasp. Her hands move from their latent position at her sides to underneath my shirt, roaming freely. I lean towards her slowly, and seeing what I'm about to do, she pivots in my arms. This position has me groaning, as she rubs against me, thrashing her head from side to side in an entirely too erotic movement, revealing her bitten lip.

And then, suddenly it's all over. She's gone from my arms as quickly as she got there, and I almost believe it was a dream were it not for seeing her retreating quickly through the crowd. Frozen in shock from the entire interaction, I watch motionlessly as she makes her way to the exit. As she hits the door, she briefly turns and meets my eye. The expression has me all the more confused – it as at once yearning, confused and warning. And the warning is clear: stay away.

_Bella's POV _

I drive home distressed. My encounter with Edward has me reeling. Again.

I get home, and rush to my stereo, selecting 'Que Sera' by Wax Tailor. The indecisiveness of the song reflects my mood. I'm indecisive. Or perhaps indecisive is the wrong word – conflicted? I decide it's one of those days where there is not enough room for my thoughts inside my head, and pull out my notebook.

I make enough coffee to satisfy an army, take off all my makeup and slip into my sloppy clothes – trackies and a massive hoodie with my big geeky glasses – settle into the couch, and begin what will be a long entry with my two best friends: pen and paper.

R&R!

HBMuse

xoxo


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